and
death for the dwellers on each shore. It was feudalism born again.

Above one of the spurs each family had its home; the Stetsons, under
the seared face of Thunderstruck Knob; the Lewallens, just beneath the
wooded rim of Wolf's Head. The eaves and chimney of each cabin were
faintly visible from the porch of the other. The first light touched the
house of the Stetsons; the last, the Lewallen cabin. So there were times
when the one could not turn to the sunrise nor the other to the sunset
but with a curse in his heart, for his eye must fall on the home of his
enemy.

For years there had been peace. The death of Rome Stetson's father from
ambush, and the fight in the court-house square, had forced it. After
that fight only four were left-old Jasper Lewallen and young Jasper, the
boy Rome and his uncle, Rufe Stetson. Then Rufe fled to the West, and
the Stetsons were helpless. For three years no word was heard of him,
but the hatred burned in the heart of Rome's mother, and was traced deep
in her grim old face while she patiently waited the day of retribution.
It smouldered, too, in the hearts of the women of both clans who had
lost husbands or sons or lovers; and the friends and kin of each had
little to do with one another, and met and passed with watchful eyes.
Indeed, it would take so little to turn peace to war that the wonder was
that peace had lived so long. Now trouble was at hand. Rufe Stetson had
come back at last, a few months since, and had quietly opened store at
the county-seat, Hazlan-a little town five miles up the river, where
Troubled Fork runs seething into the Cumberland-a point of neutrality
for the factions, and consequently a battle-ground. Old Jasper's store
was at the other end of the town, and the old man had never been known
to brook competition. He had driven three men from Hazlan during the
last term of peace for this offence, and everybody knew that the fourth
must leave or fight. Already Rufe Stetson had been warned not to appear
outside his door after dusk. Once or twice his wife had seen skulking
shadows under the trees across the road, and a tremor of anticipation
ran along both banks of the Cumberland.

III

A FORTNIGHT later, court came. Rome was going to Hazlan, and the feeble
old Stetson mother limped across the porch from the kitchen, trailing a
Winchester behind her. Usually he went unarmed, but he took the gun now,
as she gave it, in silence.

The boy Isom was not we